POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The days were no longer days as far as Cyrdic could tell, though it was Ivan who said it aloud first. There was an endlessness to the sky, as day and night no longer functioned this far north. The ice and snow turned to barren rock, and the horizon began to shift and coil with iridescent colors that caught and tugged at one's sanity. And even now, Ivan let slip that they still were within the lower boundaries of the Chaos Wastes. It was still many miles until they were truly within the realm of Chaos.

"Let us hope that we can tuck tail and go back before then." Yantz said, and he gave a sideways glance at his mistress as she muttered incantations under her breath. It was a day before the cold had left that she had begun to shield them with her magic. The Chaos taint could affect a man as soon as they had entered into Norscan territory, but it would take weeks for such mutations to begun. But now? The cracked, bleeding ground they walked upon could mutate the barefooted. The very air, rank with chaos winds, could transform any of them into a wretch of the dark gods within hours. Dietrichia's enchantments upon them would last as long as her strength did, which she judged could last days. But Cyrdic and the others were also warned that during this process, she could not utilize her powers in their defense in combat. They would simply have to make do.

Cyric had lost the scent of the barbarian. The wasteland was too bleak. The howling wind of the snows, and the phosphorous air of the wastelands had driven off all scents and markings of those that passed by. But he had smelled him. He knew that if they had gone west or east, he felt confident the barbarian would have been seen, unless he had died of frostbite or eaten by monstrosities.

But no one had been seen passed the army of Wulfrik, and so they continued northwards. Though Ivan, Skaldi, and Dietrichia remained silent and steadfast, the others had begun to show doubts of their journey forward. The Greatswords that were left began to sweat and gaze backwards often, muttering to themselves and gripping their swords tighter. Even looking at Cyrdic with disdain, as though the very land around them poisoned their minds and brought forth their smallest inklings of mistrust. As they did so, the Kislevite's began to speak their native tongue among themselves. Cyrdic only knew a few words in Kislevite, but they spoke the word Ursun as if it were a curse. Ivan had to silence them with a barking order thrice before they buttoned their lips.

Ahead, the eerie red mist of the wasteland began to fade in certain spots of their vision, as if at random. But an hour later they saw a sight that brought them to the very edges of their willpower to remain on course.

"Valya's mercy..." Skaldi breathed. The group ducked as the two headed Chaos Dragon soared above the sky lazily, traveling as if searching for something in particular. Its body was bloated and its two maws were contorted masses of teeth and spittle, only barely resembling the nobility of its uncorrupted kin. It almost looked as if it swayed in the sky, and the distortion of the horizon could not give the group an indication of its exact location. Even Dietrichai was not sure, and her normally calm face was filled with dread at the sight of it. As one of the heads belched flame, the other vomited acid into the wasteland not miles away, though soon it seemed Skaldi's prayer had been answered, for over the course of what seemed to be half a day it flew no closer to the companions, and disappeared as abruptly as it had been first spotted. It only drew their eyes forward and downwards, to spot a mountain range that seemed to have grown out of the very ground.

In the air, Cyrdic smelled the same scent he had caught earlier. And gazing through the miasma, he could see the barest outline of a broken outpost within the mountain rocks. Its architecture sloped and eloquently made, with motifs of dragons and lions emblazoned upon the cracked buildings.

They were of Elvish make...and something was occurring within the blasted ruins...
@Penny

No Turning Back - Surving the Abyss

A very small post, but it was to move me and Fuzzy along.

No Turning Back - Surving the Abyss

Simulation Battle Pt.2

---

@Fuzzybootz

"We still have miles yet." Hal told Riley, trepidation evident in his voice. He spoke the obvious fact to keep her mind on the target, not to inform her. Hal knew full well that the woman was fully aware of the situation. She gave an apt 'fuck' to what was transpiring, but on the brightside, they had taken out all enemies thus far, and the scientists remained unharmed. With a wheeling motion of Hal's arm, the troopers set up a perimeter around the scientists.

Sergeant McCormick knelt down to the wounded man, checking his wound. The others had managed to halt most of the bleeding for now. Hal was simply glad it was a simulation. "Can you focus?" Hal asked, knowing the pain might be overwhelming. "Are you good to go?" Private George nodded fiercely, too out of breath from crying out to speak too much. But he wanted them to succeed as much as any of them. Hal grinned and patted his shoulder. "Stay frosty, and use your sidearm." With that, Hal McCormick knelt down, and got the others to help hoist George up on Hal's shoulders. They would take turns if the terrain was rough, but Hal would take first carry.

"If we move up by the western flank, we might go through lighter resistance." He said to his superior officer, indicating to the left in front of Riley. He could see some low hills between the west and the center, and he had a feeling that the enemy would be gazing further eastwards. He couldn't rightly tell, but it was a soldier's instinct he'd long come to trust over his fairly bloody career as a terran trooper. "But it's your call, ma'am."

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil had his wits about him quickly, and he rubbed his head. "Goddamn girl," he exclaimed, and he began picking the glass out of his thick head of hair. Neil had always been the most risky of his unit back on Fortus, and he gained a somewhat dubious reputation for insane jobs when he slummed it in the space stations before he was contacted for the Highlander crew. But Junebug still somehow managed to surprise him every now and then.

"Alexander's on this floor, in the hanger." His Captain told him.

He pulled himself up, and realized he and Junebug had found themselves in a storage facility. More like a storage room, now that he got a better look at it. Plasteel crates were piled 6 units high, and powered down heavy machinery was set in rows along the side of the room. He even saw three Haulers like the one he had stolen from Fornax. But now wasn't the time to marvel or try to add to his collection.

Sayeeda tossed him the shotgun, but he tossed it back to her. "I'll be a distraction. You take the shots." He told her with a wink, and they hurried on past the small area into a squat, utilitarian hallway of grey that led to the hanger. Neil was surprised even the bottom workman's halls weren't extravagantly decorated, but he guessed Alexander had the mindset to keep the lower class from getting too "big headed" toward their betters. Neil just hoped they would make it in time.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Otto cried out in agony as he was lifted up within the maw of a great snow beast. A bear-like monster with spikes and boils along its back, and eyes with a malign intelligence. Konrad and Olaf ran to Otto's aid, as did Cyrdic. Though they likely knew that the fellow was beyond saving.

"Iv ahnly ve 'ad horses!" Boris the Hussar cried, and Ivan clapped the man on the back as the two of them, along with Luka charged into the fray with their sabers held high, attacking from the flank as the three Imperials crashed into the beasts and their meal. Konrad buried two feet of steel into the bear that held Otto, while Olaf cut into the face of another beast that had turned to meet them.

Yantz begrudgingly stayed near the Witch, sword out, even as two of the six beasts loped towards them with a feral hunger that seemed almost palpable. Dietrichia uttered a word of power from the winds of Azyr, and forked lighting exploded from her fingertips to engulf the two beasts, felling one and causing the other to stumble.

Cyrdic's runic sword was gripped within the teeth of one of the beasts, green saliva dribbling from its maw as it tried to yank the sword out of his hands. Cyrdic was nearly overwhelmed by the stench of the things breath. Instead of giving up the sword, Cyrdic knelt down and produced a dagger Camilla had gotten him as a gift, and sjabbed hard into the bear's eye. It roared and let go of the sword, falling into the snow and vainly trying to tear out the six inches of steel within its skull.

Suddenly Cyrdic's world was full of pain, and he couldn't even take a breather before a swipe cut into his back and sent him tumbling. It was only by instinct that he hit the hard ground with a roll, skidding into snow and finding himself on his back. The multicolored sky was replaced by sheer white as one of the bears leaped at him to tear out his throat. But Cyrdic had his wits about him and stabbed his Ulrican sword upwards, impaling the beast on the glowing metal and causing it to whine pitifully. Using his powerful legs and the bear's momentum, he kicked the corpse end over end past him into the snow bank.

Once he collected himself, he saw the others had finished off the rest of the beasts. Yantz had taken out the injured, electrocuted monstrosity that had survived the Witches attacks. Even as Cyrdic found his feet, Ivan was slitting the throat of the last crippled one, and Skaldi sat atop the back of a remarkably unmutated bear with his Axe buried in its skull. "The meat might be a bit rough, but give me an hour and we can probably eat this one, aye?" he said.

Cyrdic nearly fell over again.

Hours later, after they had buried Otto, and bandaged Boris as best they could, Dietrichia had scried the corpse and deemed it untainted, and they had eaten a quick meal of bear stew. The party moved forward with a will, though Cyrdic knew if he did not keep them going with encouraging words and a show of strength himself, they would lose heart of their mission. It also occurred to him that though he would brave any obstacle to see Camilla safe, these others were not her lovers or even friends, bar Ivan and Skaldi. And yet they had sacrificed so much. And yet, though they were perhaps too scarred of looking fearful to turn back, they were traveling into hell.

The next landmark seemed to fade from out of the bleak winds; a mountain range rolled across the landscape. Such was not known to any map of the Empire or to Kislev. "We must be near the Hold of Kraka Ornsmotek," Skaldi said. "The northernmost hold of my northern Kin. I can not find their hold, but we must ware. For Giants and Trolls of Chaos inhabit the mountains to its west, if that be where we are."

And so the group had to traverse around, being guided by Dietrichia and Skaldi's knowledge of rock formations to find passes suitable for the full group to move through. Labyrinths of razor sharp rocks, and stones carved into the likenesses of skulls and spines greeted them as they trudged along silently, hoping that they met none of the foul creatures that lurked within the caverns of the deep. They had nearly made it through the pass they had taken when a great horn had sounded from within the northern wastes. Instinctively, all of the group crouched and hid behind the crags they found themselves in, huddling down. "Quiet," Cyrdic whispered, and he sniffed the howling wind, picking up scents that made him both fearful and angry.

Out of the fog, shapes appeared. Hulking, but man sized and armed with axes and sword. A huge warrior at the head of the column strode with a purpose, his dark blade of chaos slaked across the Ice. Upon his back were trophy skulls of various races, creatures slain across the world. His shoulders were covered in slabs of metal, and his great red beard seemed to drip with blood. Behind his soldiers, lumbering beasts marched along with them. Shaggy haired, tusked monstrosities with armored plating and strange eyes that glowed an unnatural blue.

It was not a vast army, but it was a sizeable force. Cyrdic thanked Ulric and Sigmar they were neither going north or south, but further east. He hoped they continued that way.

"Wulfrik," Dietrichia hissed, her eyes suddenly glowing a great white. The entire group was taken aback as she shuddered and began utter the man's name. Yantz shook her, but she paid no heed to the man as she spoke, utterly stricken by prophecy. "Wulfrik the Wanderer heads southwards! The Everchosen gathers all to his banner!" Her cries grew loud and wild as she began to roar in an arcane tongue, and Ivan drew a knife as if to silence the witch by ending her life. Instead, Cyrdic tackled the wizard, cutting her off and knocking her into the stone floor of the crags.

Moments slid by, and the drums beat as they normally did. Within minutes, the force had passed them.

"Get off me." She said once her wits returned to her, and Cyrdic was surprised to see she actually blushed. He looked her in the eye, not caring if she was embarrassed. "Give away our position again, and your help is no longer required." he told her, and she scoffed at that, quickly resuming her neutral, ageless posture as she drew herself up.

"Where to now?" Konrad asked, the man's mustache looked more white than black, the snow having clung to his upper lip greedily. Cyrdic was about to speak, when he smelled something. Something he didn't expect to smell. It was a musk he had scented back days ago, upon the Nordland shore. An unsettling smell of desire and sweat, and dark amusement. He knew it to be a man, but if it was the same man as he had scented then...then Camilla was close. Perhaps miles away at the most. But in this snow, even that seemed a world away.

"Northwest." He said, and began to make his way down the crags. The others followed suit.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"What do you mean?" Cyrdic demanded of her, grabbing her collar. She did not seem concerned. In fact when she wasn't contemplating spells or prophecies, she always seemed to have a curve to her lips, as if she knew a secret no one else was privvy to. Considering her order, it very well might have been true. "By Sigmar, tell me what you meant!"

"The Chaos Wastes." she repeated, her eyes locked with Cyrdic's. She shook her head. "Past that...even I cannot see."

Images of Camilla being sacrificed, or mutated, or eaten by daemons flashed through his mind, and if it was yesterday he would begin to feel weak over grief. But he was done with such things. He felt a surge of energy at his anger, and he let the woman go.

"Vhat if she iz vwrong?" Ivan asked aloud. He was more prejudice toward the wizard than Cyrdic. There were various provinces of Kislev that still burned witches. Yantz spoke up next. "She's never wrong mate."

"What else did you see?" Cyrdic asked.

"My visions come and go," she said. If she did not seem so arrogant, he almost thought she seemed apologetic. "I can control spells, but my prophecies I cannot control. But I saw them climbing a...wall of ice. A dark haired woman was tied to a Varg's back. Above the cliff I saw an endless waste. Miles yet was poison and fire...and mutation."

The Greatswords and Kislevites shook their heads, and made the signs of Sigmar and Ursun. Konrad took off his helmet, and breathed out a burst of steam from the cold air. He seemed to pause before he spoke, and when next he spoke it was by a force of will. "We're with you," he said, wholly unconvinced of his words or their success. It shook Cyrdic to the core one of the renowned men of the legendary rank of swordsman looked as if he wished to rather jump into the frozen, monster infested waters of the Sea of Claws than go where they intended to.

Cyrdic could smell Yantz's fear, and looking at the man he could see it too. But the sorceress's guard held his tongue and simply pulled his cloak about him tighter. Even Skaldi and Ivan seemed intimidated to the breaking point. Only Cyrdic did not seem worried, at least at the prospect of entering the wastes themselves. In fact, he felt renewed energy in his limbs. His entire body moved on its own, and within its scabbard, his sword glowed. Cyrdic's irises were ringed with gold, and he felt his senses clear to anything beyond what he's ever felt.

He sat down and relieved one of Ivan's companions, rowing with all of his considerable strength.

"Row east a few hundred paces!" Dietrichia called over the crashing of the waves. "There's a strong southern wind!"

---

Sarhashis reached into the Nordlander's chest cavity, and with a crackling pop, the cultist tore the heart out. Red blood spilled over his gnarled fingers. He handed the delicacy to Ulkjar, who took it within his massive hand and bit deeply, sucking the bloodied juices into his mouth as the flesh filled his gullet. He had not eaten southerner in many months.

The army had failed, but their purpose had not. The force that had entered Nordland was but a paltry raid compared to what the Empire faced in the coming days, and Theodric Gaussen would not be able to aid the Kislevites with his forces come next spring. However, Ulkjar and Sarhashis had a pact to keep. Their prey had escaped for now. But not for long...

The sorcerer plucked a black jewel off his robe, and carefully placed it within the opened ribcage of the corpse. The same Nordlander that had taken Yantz's horse. As the jewel was placed within him, his eyes opened. His pupils were red as blood, and he spoke an ancient tongue long forgotten on this plane of existence. He spoke of a Sergeant and a Courtesan, and of the city of Praag.

---

Dietrichia had done her best to stave off the cold, however even her powers did not seem adequate enough to keep the men warm as they sailed across the Sea of Chaos (Some called it the Sea of Krakens) above the rugged land of Norsca, its mountains cutting into the clouds like great dragon spines. Only Skaldi seemed unbothered by cold, and Cyrdic due to his sword. But even the Kislevites were not used to such bitter chill, though they took it with a stoicism.

To the south, they saw a ragged bluff of snow, ice, and rock overlook the water. Upon it was a massive keep, a towering structure made of black metal that rent the very eyes with its edged spires. Even though the companions saw no signs of life, they could not help but feel watched, as if the tower itself was a malevolent entity that sought their doom. The air began to grow thick with frozen fear, and it was only by Sigmar and Ulric's grace that a monster from the deep had not swallowed them up long ago.

A scraping noise filled the silence, and Cyrdic looked overboard to see the front of their longboat had run across a frozen wasteland. His eyes must have played tricks on him, because that had not been there before, he had thought. The waters had been eerily calm, but he did not recall seeing ice in the distance.
"The frozen sea." The wizard said, trying to coil tighter within her double robes. Cyrdic looked across the ice, and saw no end to it in sight. After a moment, he stepped off of the Longboat, feeling a solid surface beneath his feet. "We walk from here." He told them, and the others grabbed their meager portions of food and water left.

"Another day's walk north, and it will grow warmer." Dietrichia said. Yantz seemed positively miserable at having gone with the woman to this God's forsaken place.

"Is that not a good thing?" Otto the Imperial asked. The Kislevites looked at him with knowing expressions, having fought near the wastes their entire lives. Boris the Hussar spoke up as he filled his pack with a skin of their last rainwater. "No, itis naht."
@Penny

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

@Stormflyx Love the Mummy References, both the character and the O'Connell mention. Here's a small list of things I'd like you to add.

• Give a brief paragraph, maybe even just three sentences, on her being contacted by the Baron and her accepting the proposal.
• You say in her history she is 27 when her age at the top says 25.
• Tell us how she makes a living before she was contacted, unless her publishing essays was how she does that.

Other than that, I want you to add her to the character roster and then you can join us for Adventure #1.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

This is my favorite @Gcold

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Initially the group held their weapons at the ready, just out of form and appearance rather than any ill will towards the obviously Imperial newcomers. But they lowered their arms out of sheer incredulity of their greetings. Cyrdic had to admit he was confused as well. They couldn't have been soldiers or military from the Count's army. No official messenger would forget the name of the one they came to find, much less one of the commanders.

"I am Cyrdic Becker," the Ostlander said, stepping forward and sheathing his Runic sword. "I don't mean to offend but we don't have time to talk. The Norscans-"

"Yes yes, they have your woman." Dietrichia Von Grimmelhausen said. "We are here to make sure you're to make it to her, and that we head northwards. Believe me, herr Becker, you'll need our help."

Cyrdic looked at her and could not comprehend this turn of events. Yantz looked at her too, though he looked as if he had expected every word. He sighed, and leaned forward in his saddle. "I'm 'fraid we have our orders from the Imperial colleges of magic back in Altdorf. We were tasked with finding you and a fraulien Camilla, and to make it to Praag before the spring turns. The Nords a few miles back were kind enough to let us know the situation here."

"The army survived?" Cyrdic asked, though his mind whirled with possibilities. The colleges of magic? That woman looked as if she had something more to her than just an air of superiority, but he still would not have guessed that. It didn't sit well with him instinctively. Ostland was a superstitious province, and though he had fought alongside battlemagers, he had never gotten used to it. But he saw the emblem upon her breast, the sign of the Golden Order.

"Aye, and the Count wants a word from you. It doesn't look like he'll be getting it anytime soon." Yantz finished, and he dismounted his horse.

"We have a sick man," Cyrdic said, bemused at the situation but as always, never forgetting his duty. He saw the haughty, shapely woman hold her hand out as Yantz took it and helped her off her own horse. She hadn't even bothered to look at him as he spoke. "can he use your horse?"

"He can use mine." Yantz said, trying not to look at the disapproving glance of Dietrichia.

The group, with their two new members set sail not an hour later. Yantz helped the woman into the back of the longboat, clearing a space for her to sit. Her eyes fell upon Skaldi more than once, though it wasn't with any sort of normal interest. The Dwarf had told Cyrdic that Gold Wizards tended to try and coerce secrets of metal from the Dawi whenever they could, but the Dwarfs kept their secrets hidden. Even a Dwarf cook and soldier might know a few aspects of minerals that normal men did not.

Cyrdic ordered them to take shifts in turns. Six men rowed while two slept, and the woman had guaranteed that she could keep most of the chill off of them as they set sail further north. Cyrdic had never been much of a sailor, but he had fought in Nordland long enough to know when to open and drop sails, and he set it up as Skaldi kept his eye on the horizon. Around the group, a shimmering golden field enveloped the longboat, and though chill had set in, the northern wind seemed to miss the boat entirely for now. Cyrdic did not regret allowing them to join with them...yet.

Whatever it took to get Camilla back.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

As the dust faded and the gunshots rang, Neil grabbed what Nutribars he could and shoved them into his pack whilst moving. Before he made it through the door, he grabbed his own combat shotgun and followed Sayeeda, ripping three shells into the obscured hallway to keep whatever foes they had at bay. He heard the sounds of return fire, and the wall behind him was suddenly ripped by the passing of shrapnel.

He didn't have time to contemplate his luck, instead diving to avoid the rest of the shots that came at him, though they were fired noticably slow. If there was a Hexanagallion past the billowing cloud of debris, it was most likely injured. He had the faintest time to contemplate such matters as he soared through the air, and he landed on his shoulder in a rough slide across the smooth floor into the conference room. Suddenly his world gained clarity, and he saw Sayeeda fighting for her life against a hulking, Sauren Xenos that looked to be toying with her as its arms, limbs thicker than her legs, slowly inched his alien hands closer to her throat.

Luckily, it was so intent on Junebug that it didn't hear Neil get to his feet. Though it let out a warbling grunt of confusion when it heard the pilot cock his shotgun once more.

"Hey swamp water!"

It tried to turn, but it hadn't the time before Neil unloaded a shell into the brute's back, point blank. Its midsection was so thick, it could not even pass through completely. But the beast let go of Junebug weakly and gave a sonorous roar into the air, turning around and baring its otherworldly teethed mandibles in Neil's direction. The rogue responded by firing his next shell into the Xeno's head, its face exploding in a spray of iridescent bodily fluids.

Neil moved on instinct, grabbing Junebug's arm and pulling her out of the towering corpses way as it toppled to the ground. The bony protrusions from its limbs scuffed and even cracked the smooth floor tiles. He let out a haggard breath and helped Junebug to her feet, clearing his throat and giving her a grin. "And whoever said I can't do something right from time to time?"

Another warbling cry was heard from just outside the door, and with a single step of its massive stride, a bleeding and now one-armed Hexanagallion entered the room and swiped at Neil, who happened to be standing facing Junebug, his back to the creature. It easily lifted him off the ground with the sweeping blow and he was sent flying. His world spun, and he landed heavily on the oaken desk to topple on its other side. Almost on instinct, his hand felt for a hold and instead, his fingers felt a small item on the table's side, gripping it and yanking the memory drive off as he hit the floor. As his world faded into oblivion, he briefly realized he had let go of his own shotgun where he had first been hit not a moment ago...
@Penny